Everything in life is a metaphor.
Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.
Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it's time for them to be hurt.
Certain kinds of knowledge rob people of their sleep.
At any rate, that’s how I started running. Thirty three—that’s how old I was then. Still young enough, though no longer a young man. The age that Jesus Christ died. The age that Scott Fitzgerald start...
An old cat is a good friend to talk to.
Most people in the world don't really use their brains to think. And people who don't think are the ones who don't listen to others.
I was much younger, much hungrier, much more alone. But I was myself, pared down to the essentials.
People think of all kinds of things at three in the morning. We all do. That's why we each have to figure out our own way of fighting it off.
April and May were painful, lonely months for me because I couldn't talk to you. I never knew that spring could be so painful and lonely. Better to have three Februaries than a spring like this.
April ended and May came along, but May was even worse than April. In the deepening spring of May, I had not choice but to recognize the trembling of my heart. It usually happened as the sun was going...
The strength I'm looking for isn't the type where you win or lose. I'm not after a wall that'll repel power coming from outside. What I want us the kind of strength to be able to absorb that kind of p...
Since I have come to America, I am often asked whether my next novel will be set in America. I don't think it will. I think I will be living in America for some time to come, but while living in Ameri...
هناك نوع من الكمال لا يمكن إدراكه سوى عبر التراكم غير المحدود للنقائص.
You mean machines are like humans?I shook my head. No, not like humans. With machines the feeling is, well, more finite. It doesn't go any further. With humans it's different. The feeling is always ch...
[...] Shimamoto had her own little world within her. A world that was for her alone, one I could not enter.
You're wrong. The mind is not like raindrops. It does not fall from the skies, it does not lose itself among other things. If you believe in me at all, then believe this: I promise you I will find it....
You know something? she said.What?I'm completely empty.Yeah?Yeah.
You can see a person's whole life in the cancer they get.
Wherever there's hope there's a trial.